“What gives in letting go is so much better than what stays with holding on.”

I miss you but not as much as I regret leaving myself to be loved by you.

This is a poem about love its absence is merely an optical illusion.

The shelter is where I am when I am with myself.

I have emptied myself of a heavy burden today lifted it out of my body and placed it down its not the end but it’s a beginning.

My heart is my muse my blood is my ink my pain is my pen my words are my healing.

Why do I push up against the ones who will not have me like a wave pushing its way on the sand when my people are in the ocean and we naturally flow to protect each other.

Authenticity feels like the glue that has put me back together I feel whole and aligned in every word.

Release the person’s place thought-feeling.

I will always meet you with kindness.

I still have hope that one day someone will love all of me – from the hallelujahs right down to the hallows.

You took my heart, hope, love, and trust when you left but you gave me good poetry.

You are whole and complete all on your own everything you need is within you peel away the layers come home.

My eyes, finally conscious of the truth that is, now see unclouded.

Why do I paint a happy face every single holiday when they are a stinging reminder of what and who is absent.

Listen to the heart to its beat in time words are no match for what is spoken in the heart’s rhyme.

Friendships exist in the fluctuations between acceptance and rejection.

Between holding on and letting go october discerns october knows, that life lurks between the clouds of death and death breathes with every rebirth.

I part my lips, but no words come out. I want to cry. Want to beg. Want to scream. But mostly, I want to hold him until I know he’s going to be okay. Then I want him to hold me until I’m okay, too.

Dear God, I am so afraid to open my clenched fists! Who will I be when I have nothing left to hold on to? Who will I be when I stand before you with empty hands? Please help me to gradually open my hands and to discover that I am not what I own, but what you want to give me.

Holding on to something that has lost its magic, lost its mutual respect, hurts more. Elsa understood the assignment.

Many of us have read about and talked about forgiveness, and we understand intellectually why it might benefit us to let go of anger toward others. But we hold on anyway.

Throw your arms around the world and hold on tight. But not through fear but because of your love.

Sometimes when you make good stuff and you love it, it gets outdated sometimes, because you’ve held on to it so long, you may not like it like you used to.

Do not cling to what isn’t meant for you.